


Singing in the Rain

by smacktron



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AND THERES GONNA BE SMUT, BUT ONLY IN LATER CHAPTERS you have to be patient, LIKE A LOT OF KLANCE SMUT, M/M, Voltron, also lotor is a douchebag, and keith doesn't know half of what he's talking about most of the time, basically a John wick!AU, oh and lance is a badass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-13 08:38:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11181075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smacktron/pseuds/smacktron
Summary: "May I ask why you punched my son?" Zarkon asked quietly, voice struggling to stay on a steady level."Actually, yeah," came the reply from the other end of the phone. "I punched your son because he decided to steal a car and kill the owner of this car's dog in the process."Zarkon sighed lowly. "Hunk, why now are you taking action? This is not the first time he has done this."Hunk laughed sarcastically. "No. He stole KEITH KOGANE'S car and killed KEITH KOGANE'S dog.""...""...""...oh."(Or; a John Wick/Voltron AU but it's not at the same time).





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance meets Keith and Pidge is a fucking gremlin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i honestly don't even know where to begin bc i know this is going to be a terrible fanfic but who cares not me *laughs and eats cheese balls*

I count to myself, _one, two, three_ , before opening my eyes again.

No, my mind isn't playing tricks on me this time, because he's still standing there in the corner of the room, a glass of red wine held delicately in his hand and a gentle look gracing his features. There's a faint blush dusted on his cheeks, and although he stands alone with the velvet curtain as his only sense of comfort, he seems content with where he is situated. I have to press my nails into my hand and forcibly pry my eyes away from the figure before he catches me staring.

"No way." Pidge Gunderson slides her glasses up her nose and peeks over my shoulders to get a closer look. "No freaking way. Is that—? That's him. Keith, that's _him_ , right there." She exclaims, her voice just barely above a whisper. I give her a slow nod in reply, watching carefully as the man takes a small sip of his wine and sets it down on the table beside him. "I know, I would have deemed him trustworthy right away if I hadn't known better," I tell her, almost agreeing with the look on her face.

This is what makes her laugh. "I can't believe it, oh my God. Keith, I honestly thought you were lying about him this whole time!"

"Why would I lie?" I ask.

She looks at me in disbelief. "' _A man of unfathomable intelligence and beauty, who hides behind a glass and strikes his opponent so quick it seems as if he has never even moved. Who once killed a swarm of beasts with nothing but a bottle of red wine.'_ That's what you told me. Who would believe something like that?" She turns back to the figure and then to me, eyes bright. "But I get it now. I don't think it could be any more obvious."

"I don't get your reasoning," I tell her.

Pidge glares. "Idiot. Just think—he's the most unsuspecting guy here, but this makes him equally suspecting, right? He's by himself during the most awaited royal gala of the year. And don't you dare tell me that he's just a loner, because you know that's not true."

I close my mouth.

This is an invitation for Pidge to continue. "And the red wine? Look, he's the only one drinking anything red in the first place. And you can also see it in his eyes. That's definitely a pretty badass assassin right there, I can tell just by his posture." She explains lowly. "I mean, take a look at his shoulders. Broad—,"

"Look, I don't want to know about his shoulders. It doesn't matter." I say quickly, blushing. "He's an assassin, I know—I was the one who told you that, you just didn't believe me."

I pause, then add, "Now, I need you to be my wingman for a couple of minutes, can you do that for me?"

Pidge purses her lips. "You gonna talk to him?"

"No, I'm jumping off the roof to commit suicide and that's definitely why I need you to back me up and kill me before I hit the ground."

"The sarcasm wasn't needed, asswipe. I was just asking." She snaps. "Because if it's of or relating to the Continental, it's a big fat fuck no. I hate the Continental, especially the Continental Hotel. The beds are so goddamn stiff there, I have to sleep on the floor whenever Allura books me a stay."

I shush her. "Don't say that name out loud, Pidge!"

"Allura!" She hisses, louder this time.

I decide in a split second to shoot a white lie at her before things get dirty. "It's not about the Continental, okay? I just want to know which company he's connected with, and I'm sure it's not the Continental. I would have noticed him before if he was."

Pidge scoffs, crossing her arms. "You owe me," she says finally, pointing an accusing finger at my chest. "And why do you even need me to be there?"

"You'll back me up if I say something wrong and set him off."

"I'll be there, but there's also a 50/50 chance that I won't back you up."

"Pidge."

"....fine."

"Thank you."

The figure is taking a long sip of wine when me and Pidge walk up to him. He sets down the glass once we make eye contact and smiles brightly. "Keith Kogane?"

I nod. "Lance McClain. How'd you know?"

He clicks his tongue. "I think it's quite obvious you have a way of making people remember your name. I hear it all the time in the Underground—The Man Who Could, Keith Kogane. You passed an impossible test, and you were set free," he says craftily, a hint at his words. "Yet you wanted more, if I am not mistaken."

"I always want more. Who doesn't?" I counter, leaning against the wall. Pidge shoots me a look that basically screams the words  _I see you trying to be suave, bitch._ "Anyways, this is my friend—,"

Pidge interrupts me. "Pidge Gunderson, but I assume you knew that already?"

Lance nods. "And I am sure you also know who I am, since you've taken the time to introduce yourself to another spy with your code name, _Katie Holt_."

_Here it comes_ , I think to myself, but I don't hear her scream and I don't hear any explosions. When I open my eyes I hadn't realized I had closed, she stands the same, but her eyes are determined. She knows how important he is, I realize. She wouldn't dare.

"That is no longer my name, _Lancelot McClain_ ," she counters with a grin, adjusting her glasses.

Lance looks at me for a short second, then at Pidge, then back at me. "I like her," he laughs after a pause, patting her shoulder. "She's got guts." Then he meets her gaze. "Oh, and for your information, I do actually work for the Continental. And you're not alone—I always bring a fold-up mattress at my Continental Hotel stays. Those beds are terrible."

I pipe into the conversation before Pidge can turn around and hit me with a _You Fucking Liar_. "So."

Lance breaks into a large grin. "Let me guess. You're going to ask me how long I've been with the Continental, if I have a contract, and if I do have one then why have you never seen me in the Underground or any Continental gatherings before, and if I'd like to have a dance with you."

My face immediately heats up. "Well, um, I was going—,"

"You were going to ask me once Gunderson left," Lance cuts in with a chuckle. "I know."

"H—?" Pidge begins.

"Easy!" Lance interrupts once more, tapping her temples with his index fingers. "As you may know, each Continental Member has a storage chip implanted in the backs of their necks, for _safety_ , apparently. The chips can easily decipher memories and thoughts, although they are not-so-easy to hack into. Luckily, I managed to get in there by the time the party started. Being in the Higher-Ups gives you a lot of layaway, you know."

Pidge stares at him with wide, curious eyes. "You hacked into the Continental chips?" She asks the question more like a statement of disbelief. Lance laughs again, softly, and gives a nod of his head.

"And to answer your second question, I had a bit of help," he adds.

"I never asked a second question."

"You were about to. And," he finishes with a wink, holding his wine glass to his lips and gulping down a sip, "It's a 'yes' to the dance, Keith...and if you so truly insist, I will lock Pidge in the ladies bathroom in order for our precious moment not to be ruined."

Pidge whips her head around. " _You fucking what_." She hisses.

Before I can begin to take off, there's a loud bang from the other end of the room—a gunshot. My eyes widen, and a few moments later, I come out of my stupor of fear and look over just in time to see three bodies fall to the floor, dead, and then as a piercing scream starts. A man stands in the corner, a rifle held in his left hand and a Colt revolver in his right. He has thick, dark brown hair pulled behind his ears with a bandana, save for his bangs, and deep brown eyes that I can see from all the way across the room. I recognize him, then I realize I hadn't noticed him at all throughout the time I had been there.

"Hunk, that was my kill!" Lance immediately jumps up and flips the man off with a growl. "Do you want me to get in trouble with the company again, you weirdo?"

Hunk Garret—I remember his name—gives a large shrug. "He was being annoying!"

Seven police officers and bodyguards swarm into the room almost on cue, guns pointed. Lance laughs loudly as Hunk goes wide eyed and pretends to throw his hands in the air, before waiting until the officers are off their game and shoots again, knocking them all to the ground in the process. The other few people there (I knew most of them were in the other rooms) fall onto the floor. "Cut me some slack!"

"I ain't cutting you any slack!" Lance reaches down into his clothes and grips out a pocketknife, groaning. "I knew I should have brought something else...and anyways, _you're not even assigned to any missions!_ I still don't know why I let you come here!"

Hunk shoots each officer in the head to finish them off, then rolls his eyes. "Please, I came here on my own accord."

"Sure," Says Lance sarcastically, giving him a look. "Is that all the guards here?"

"I'll bet there's more coming," Hunk says after a pause, reloading his revolver and shoving his rifle back under his shirt. "We should probably skedaddle before we get outnumbered and end up accidentally injuring each other like last time."

Pidge gives me a look mixed with a mingle of fear, but mostly confusion. _Who is this dude?_

Lance nods at Hunk's words, turning quickly to me and Pidge. "Uh...this is Hunk, by the way. He's my partner in crime, a.k.a; my best bud, even though he can be a total goof sometimes."

"I'm not a goof!"

"Don't you remember that—ugh, nevermind, we're running out of time, because _someone_ couldn't keep their gun in their pants," Lance face palms. "At least you can cook." He coughs indignantly and purses his lips. "We can save the dance for another time, maybe?" Is what he says to me. Then he scratches behind his neck sheepishly. "I spend a lot of my time in the Underground, if you ever want to visit me there...you can also ask Hunk about me if you spot him at any big gatherings—,"

"Lance!" Hunk gripes.

"Okay, fine, fine, I'm coming!" Lance snaps, taking one last sip of wine and slamming it down on the table. "I'll...see you guys later." He adds, and then grabs Hunk tightly. He salutes to Pidge and winks at me before rushing out of the room. I see Hunk hand him his rifle and Lance waving it in the air before disappearing around the corner and out of sight.

An awkward silence fills the room, save for the few bystander's whimpers of terror.

"...well, this has been fun," Pidge begins. "But, uh..."

"Should we...?"

"...uh, yeah, we should uh..."

"We should...go..."

"Yeah..."

Pidge starts to make her way out of the room, shoulders bunched together. "We're not with them," I say quietly to the witnesses, before following her out.

 

.     .     .

 

When I get home that night, I flop onto my bed and pick up my phone from the nightstand. Barely thinking, I dial up a familiar number and hold the phone to my ear, waiting for an answer.

It rings three times before someone picks up. "If you're selling anything, we don't fucking want it."

"Shiro. Hey, it's Keith."

"How do I know you aren't an imposter _pretending_ to be Keith?"

" _Shiro_."

"I'm just kidding. Good evening, Keith," Takashi Shirogane laughs, a smile evident in his voice. "Your call must be important—you woke Allura up, and you know what happened the last time you did that."

I grimace, turning to the alarm clock on the dresser drawer, which reads _3:27,_  a time no one should have to be awake to see. "Urrgh, it's that late? I didn't even notice. I just got back from the Altean gala, so that was enlightening. I met a...pretty cool guy. He was...nice."

"In other words, you met Lance McClain?" Shiro asks, and I hear Allura's voice in the background, speaking to him. " _Shiro, if you don't come to bed in the next five minutes, I'm locking you out of the bedroom for the night."_

I laugh to myself as Shiro struggles to come up with a proper sentence to tell her. Once she leaves again, he turns his attention back to me. "You met Lance?"

"Yup. And I asked for a dance, but then this Hunk dude appeared and started shooting up everything and then he runs off with Lance at his side. I guess they're friends or something...anyways, I called you to ask you about Lance."

Shiro chuckles. "Ah, the saga continues."

"N-no!" I begin, blushing. "I—no, not that. Something else regarding Lance. The Continental."

There's an awkward pause. Shiro sighs. "He has a way of making himself unnoticeable to the people he doesn't want to see, if that's what you're about to ask." I listen to a shuffling sound in the back of the phone, and I can tell he's on his way back to bed. I quickly shoot what I was going to ask in the first place.

"The Continental chips are unhackable. He knew our thoughts, Shiro. I'm sure he's able to get into the chips somehow, but I know the chips doesn't have control over our memories and thoughts. How did he do it?" I ask, my hands gripping the bedsheets until my knuckles turn white.

Shiro waits a long moment, and then says, "I suppose you'll just have to ask him yourself."

I sigh. I knew he was going to tell me that. 

"Well, I'm off to bed," Shiro says brightly, ending our conversation. "We can talk tomorrow. Good night, Keith."

"Same to you." I grumble.

Once he hangs up, I set my phone down on the nightstand and lay down in bed, listening to the police sirens and sounds of the night from outside, waiting for sleep to get the better of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasps* *Mettaton voice* the drama, the romance, the BLOODSHED! Will our two lovebirds ever fuck–no waiT I FORGOT THIS WAS LIVE TELEVISION—  
> Anyways, this was a terrible first chapter but it'll get better! I still want to edit this later and make Hunk's scene longer, but at the same time I don't want him to be a big part of the chapter until later. SO YEAH.


	2. Genesis (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter is in Hunk's P.O.V and the rest is in 3rd person P.O.V, and in the next chapter (Genesis[part 2]) shit starts to go down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have this very strange headcanon that hunk has a tiny crush on lance but has an even bigger crush on shay so its all guud,,,that's just a heads up tho bc like there's one minor hance reference if you squint superdupercalafragilisticexpialadociously hard

Lance takes a deep breath and then shoots.

Of course, the bullet hits the target directly in the middle, diving straight through the wood and dropping to the floor behind it with a quiet thump. After a moment of silence, he pulls off his headphones and smiles at the target, almost as if astonished with himself. "I did it!" He giggles, jumping up and down. "You see it, Hunk?"

"I see it." And I do. Lance had managed to form the letter _L_ in his target with the ten bullets I had supplied him. Honestly, I knew if he wanted to, he could probably recreate the Mona Lisa if there was more ammo available, but the Continental had left us on a tight schedule for bullet supplying, so we just had to make do with the extras we had. Though I must admit, it was sort of my fault that the Continental took away our gun rights for the month, but...that's life, I suppose.

Lance ceases his jumping and turns to me. "You wanna try?" He asks, holding out his gun.

"I've got my own," I reply.

"Yeah, but this one works really well," he practically shoves it in my face, so I take it, hesitantly, twirling it in my hands. "It feels like an honor." I say finally.

Lance laughs, one of his genuine laughs, which brings a smile to my face, too. Hearing Lance genuinely laugh was almost foreign to me ever since the _incident_ occurred, so whenever I heard it (which was truly a rarity) I had to seize it. "Try it out, for realsies," he orders me.

I choke on my own spit. _"Realsies—?!"_

"Fuck, did I actually just say that out loud?" Lance grimaces, bring his hands to his face.

I break out in hard laughter, holding my sides in order to get in a few breaths of air. "Where did you come up with that?" I manage to spit out after a minute.

"It—it's something Allura does, I just—!" Lance throws his hands up, his face a deep shade of red in embarrassment.  "I—you know what, _nevermind_ —are you gonna try the gun out or not?"

I gather my bearings and hand the gun back to him, a giggle still on the tip of my tongue. "Actually, uh—ha, thanks but no thanks. I've got a big thing tonight I gotta start preparing for."

"Thing?" Lance tilts his head to the side. "You don't say..." Then realization spreads across his features. "Wait, you mean, _the_ thing? You got it?"

I nod.

Lance stands shock still for a second, before breaking out into a comically large grin. "No way—Hunk, you got in? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I didn't think it was really that important...?"

" _What_?!" Lance shakes my shoulders, about to burst with energy. " _Not_ _important_? Dude, this is, like, a really big fucking thing! The Continental—the Continental itself—has chosen five of it's greatest, most talented, most skilled members that have shown their loyalty over the past _twelve_ years, to be involved in one of the most challenging inside missions than ever before! Don't you know how awesome this is? I'm so proud of my best friend!" He jumps up and wraps his arms tightly around my neck. "Hunk Garett is gonna be a fucking _master_ by the end of the month!"

I chuckle, letting him crawl onto my back and mess up my hair. "Didn't you get in once?" I ask him.

"Duh. Obviously—I'm Lance McClain. I just don't have the best reputation." is Lance's reply. "And you know how these things work. I mean, I'm possibly the best sniper in the whole wide world, but no one's gonna let me in unless I go through initiation again."

Lance is right. A while back, he had done some _stuff_ that had ended up breaking some contract rules regarding him and the Continental. Any normal member would have been killed on the spot, but Lance fought his way through and managed to negotiate with the Elders. And besides, he was extremely important to the Continental and he knew that, we all did. In the end, he was allowed bail, but would have to go through the initiation process once more, thus creating a new contract, before being allowed access to anything he would have been allowed access to before. Lance hated initiation, which I suppose I could understand. He didn't exactly have the happiest of times when he began.

"True dat." I supply.

"But that doesn't matter—this is about you, my man! You got in!" He wraps his arms tightly around my body and squeezes. "We need to celebrate."

"...Lance, no."

"Lance, _yes_!" is Lance's reply. "How about I take you out for dinner? It's on me, obviously."

"I'm busy."

"Sure."

I look down nervously. "I'm... _tired_?"

Lance gives an extremely melodramatic sigh, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'm taking you out, Hunk, no matter how many excuses you give me. I'll even take you to that disgusting Thai restaurant you seem to love so much."

"It's not disgusting," I counter, "You're just mad that the waitress rejected you last time we went."

"She had no reason to be so rude! I'm, like, the perfect dating candidate! Everyone wants me!"

I chuckle to myself, a small inside joke playing in my mind that Lance does  _not_ need to know about. "Whatever, man."

Lance clicks his tongue, the cogs in his brain seemingly turning. "Actually, you know what?"

"What."

"We should go hit the Underground for a couple of drinks. That way, you can go do whatever you usually do when you disappear from our group dates down there and I can...wait, I guess."

I give Lance a knowing look. "Uh, no, little man. You're trying to get me to go down so you can ask Coran about that 'emo dude' and the 'smooth gremlin' we saw the other day. You think you're slick? You ain't shit, hon."

"I—I would never!"

"Yeah, you've been fangirling about the goth one all week. Something about a mullet?"

Lance fumbles for an excuse, flustered. Finally, he throws his gun down onto the grassy floor with a groan and storms off, hands clenched into fists and face beet red. "You shut your trap, Hunk!" He screams on his way back to the house, about two yards from where he was practicing. "You don't know anything about anything!"

"At least I know why that waitress stood you up, you walking, talking gaydar!"

Lance lets out an ungodly screech and flips me off with both hands. I still don't know why.

.     .     .

 

It takes a lot to get Pidge Gunderson's attention. So if you ever see her slide her glasses off and close her computer screen to look at you, either you're on fire or you really, _really_ fucked up.

For Keith, it is the latter.

"I'm going to give you five seconds to rethink your life choices before I stab you," Pidge glares warningly at the man situated on the couch behind her, an absentminded look on his face. "Stop."

Keith flops onto his side and gives her wide, puppy-dog like eyes. "But _Pidge_ , don't you see? This is one of the biggest things you'll ever get to see me achieve! Aren't you the least bit happy for me?"

"Sure," is Pidge's reply, "But I hate the goddamn Continental—they're liars. This suicide mission they're making you and those four other members participate in is going to lead to everyone's death, I'm completely sure of it." She adjusts her glasses and shoots him a hard look, but Keith can sense the concern in her gaze. "The answer is no."

"What makes you think you can stop me? I can leave right now, get into my car and never have to listen to you again."

This makes Pidge smirk. "I own this goddamn house. Plus, cars  _are_ hackable, I hope you know."

Keith groans. "Pidge, you really don't get it, do you?"

"I get that you have no sense of self preservation and that you're too stubborn to know what's best for you, yes."

"No, Pidge," Keith grips his hair and pulls. "This isn't a 'suicide mission' as you put it, and knowing my skill level it's definitely not going to get me or anyone killed. The Continental chose me and four other people because we were the most skilled and the most expertise members. If this mission goes well for us, we won't just be ranked even higher, we would all be known as _heroes_ among our group! We—!"

Pidge whips her head to face him, seething. "Being an assassin is _not_ being a hero! They are trying to make it seem like doing what we do is some kind of... _sick joke_ for entertainment! You know damn well I don't want to spend the rest of my life getting paid and getting attention for murdering people with families and lives, and I know you don't, either! Do not let it get into your head that what we do is heroic!" 

Then she turns back to her computer and puts her head in her hands, shaking. After what seems like an hour of horrid, piercing silence, she moves her hands and looks up again, tears brimming in her eyes. "You know what? Go, I don't care."

"Pidge—,"

_"Before I change my mind!"_ She raises her voice. Keith puts his hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry, Pidge," he mutters finally. "I know it's hard for you because of Matt."

Pidge sighs, standing up and walking towards Keith until they're face to face. "...you _do_ realize they killed Matt because he exposed the Continental to the world, right?"

"I know."

"I hate this place," she hisses. "I hate this idiotic contract I'm in, I hate this guilt I have to wear, I hate everything about the Continental—it's all just this big, painful reminder that my brother could still be here if it weren't for my stupid antics."

Keith pulls her into a hug, and Pidge wraps her arms around him carefully. "He could be alive," Keith says into her hair.

"I saw him die." Pidge whispers. "I saw his body fall to the floor, I saw Zarkon standing with the gun."

"I hate Zarkon," Keith replies. "He hurt Shiro, he hurt Allura and Coran..."

Keith and Pidge were some of the only people who knew Zarkon existed. Most members of the Continental believed that it was run by a group of people called the Elders, but in truth it was only in commission because of the leader of the Elders, Zarkon, who was the real one running the place and making contracts. Keith knew about Zarkon because his friends were hurt because of him. Pidge knew because her brother was murdered at the hands of him.

Pidge looks up suspiciously at that. "Who's Coran?"

"No one," Keith laughs. "Allura's assistant."

"Oh."

 "Yeah."

Another silence fills the room, but this one is much more comfortable than before. Almost peaceful.

"Ill try not to get myself killed tonight," Keith says.

"You'd better," Pidge giggles, sliding her glasses up her nose. "Stay safe, don't trust anyone."

"Yup."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Little did Keith know, this was how it all began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man idk what this is but let me just say in the next chapter shit goes down and keith goes fucking dope


End file.
